


I suppose that I look different (without the robes and crown)

by WingedWolf121



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Pendragon-centric (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Canon Era, Dragonlord Merlin (Merlin), Dragons, Episode Related, Episode: s05e03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other: See Story Notes, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Uther Pendragon Never Banned Magic (Merlin), Uther Pendragon's A+ Parenting (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedWolf121/pseuds/WingedWolf121
Summary: When Arthur blows the horn of Cathbdhah for the second time, the horn doesn’t just send Uther to the other world. It sends Arthur away as well – to a world where Ygraine never died, the Great Purge never happened, and magic lives freely at court. As do those who practice it.
Relationships: (slight/implied), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Gwen/Leon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Ygraine de Bois/Uther Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 108
Kudos: 1035





	I suppose that I look different (without the robes and crown)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "As I Am" by Heather Dale, an extremely romantic love song about Arthur and Guinevere which I shamelessly stole for a merthur fic. See the endnote for content warnings! 
> 
> Also, s/o to the Merlin Netflix Party crew, which chose 'Death Song of Uther Pendragon' to watch a couple weeks ago!

The world around him blurred as the horn’s call echoed through the armory. Arthur blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sudden mist from around his eyes. Or perhaps that was only tears. If it was, he hoped that Merlin would for once hold his tongue, and not mention it.

When the mist cleared, Merlin wasn’t there.

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his eyes and looked around the armory. The scarlet cloaks of the knights hung undisturbed on their pegs, and there was no debris on the floor – the maces hung in even rows on the walls, and the shields gleamed in the torchlight.

“Merlin?” Arthur said sharply. No one answered him. Had he lost time? Stood there in a stupor, while his father’s ghost dissolved before him?

If he had – Merlin might have given him privacy, let him stand there and grieve in silence while his servant cleaned up the mess Uther had left. No doubt Merlin was waiting for him just outside the door.

When he yanked open the armory door, the sunlight almost blinded him. Arthur raised a hand over his face, cursing. Gods, what on earth – he squinted into the hallway. It looked to be the middle of the day. Light flooded in through the open windows, and people were chattering while they clattered around the central courtyard, voices floating up to him.

Surely, he could not have stood in a daze _all night_?

Something was wrong. Arthur’s instincts told him that much, and Merlin would not have left him alone for so long.

Cautiously, Arthur stepped back into the armory. The Horn of Cathbdhah had vanished – been taken? – but he plucked a dagger from the wall and slid it into his belt. He wished he had taken his sword while he and Merlin were ghost hunting.

Yet, as he walked through the corridor, everything seemed normal. The guards were dressed in the same bright livery, and they inclined their heads respectfully to Arthur as he passed. The yard below was the same as it ever was, with servants milling about the pump and a few soldiers lazing on the steps, horse’s hooves ringing against the flagstones. And _yet_.

There were four guards outside the throne room, both holding swords and spears.

That was it, Arthur thought. There were more guards here than usual. The kingdom was at peace ( _just as he had told his father_ ), and Arthur trusted his servants and his knights. There should have only been two guards standing there, and both should have only had spears, not shortswords as well.

“I wish to enter,” Arthur said stiffly. For a panicked second, he wondered if they would deny him entrance – if somehow, _Morgana_ had usurped him – but that was impossible, Morgana could not have entered Camelot and subdued the populace so thoroughly in a _day_ –

The guards glanced at each other with something that seemed like amusement, and stepped aside.

Arthur pushed open the door, and froze, heart pounding.

“If we push the patrols too close to the border, Cenred will object,” his father said to Sir Leon. Arthur heard the words only dimly. Uther looked _alive_. He looked more alive than he had for the last two years of his life, perhaps more vibrant than he had since Arthur was a child. His cheeks were ruddy, his eyes bright and clear as he leaned across the long council table, finger pressed to the map.

The golden crown of Camelot glittered in his grey hair.

“Father,” Arthur whispered. _What have you done?_

Uther and Sir Leon both looked up. Leon shot Arthur a sheepish look.

Uther sighed. “I know, Arthur.”

Arthur’s hand moved to the dagger at his back, but it was as if his arm moved through honey. How could Uther have done this? Gone from ghost to living man?

“I _know_ I was meant to leave the patrol scheduling to you today,” Uther continued. “But our scouts from Mercia reported this morning, and their news was urgent.” Uther tapped the map. “Hengist and his men have been meeting with Bayard in council, and an alliance between them could outflank us in the south.”

Arthur’s mouth was dry. “How…”

“I have no idea,” Uther said irritably. “I thought our men in the ports would have told us before Hengist ever entered Mercia, but apparently not. I’ll send a missive to Cenred, see if he knows anything.”

 _Cenred and Hengist are both dead_ , Arthur thought deliriously. _And so are you_.

“Besides, you shouldn’t be indoors on a fine day like this,” Uther added. Arthur blinked. That then, was an answer. Whatever magic had caused this, it was some bizarre illusion, not his true father. Even Uther’s shade would never suggest that nice weather was an excuse to slag off council duties. “I should think you would be out with the knights, or hanging around Balinor’s boy.”

Now _that_ , the thinly veiled disapproval, that sounded like Uther.

“I – I don’t know,” Arthur said. He wondered who Balinor’s boy was. The name was only vaguely familiar. Some nobleman he’d met once at a feast, no doubt.

“Arthur, are you all right?” Uther peered at him, looking concerned.

The _real_ Uther would have scowled at him.

“Are _you_ , father?” Arthur asked. Uther eyed him, then seemed to decide to not bother pressing him further. It made Arthur feel like a child again, and blood rushed to his cheeks.

“Perhaps you should have a lie down in your chambers,” Uther suggested. “You’ve been out training in the sun too long.”

“Yes,” Arthur agreed faintly. He backed out of the room, and when the guards had shut the doors behind him, he stumbled to the window over the courtyard. His breath came shallowly.

 _Father. Father, why are the gods doing this to me?_ A question he’d given up trying to answer a long time ago. This had to be some sort of illusion, some spell. It would be just like his father, to find some way to fling this parting blow at him. His father, who hated his reign enough to kill him for it.

Arthur gripped the stone harder, until his knuckles were white against the marble.

“Prince Arthur?” Leon said from behind him. The old title made the hair on Arthur’s arms stand up. “Are you all right?”

“Leon.” Arthur turned around. Sir Leon looked as he always did – concerned, and rather like he needed a nap. Arthur paused a beat, trying for the most normal tone of voice he could manage. “I’m fine. I don’t suppose that you’ve seen Merlin today?”

Whatever bizarre world this was, he wanted to know if Merlin had been brought into it as well. Uther had said Merlin’s name, just before Arthur banished him.

Leon’s eyes sparkled with sudden amusement. “No, my lord. I believe he may have said last night that he had business to attend to, and might not be around the castle much today.”

Well. Whatever spell or dream this was, at least Merlin remained the most lackadaisical servant in Camelot. The consistency was almost comforting.

\--

In his chambers, Arthur paced. Investigating the room had found him nothing – his own same clothes, mail, and weapons stocked the cupboards, and none of the papers cluttering his desk held any clues. The rooms were cleaner than they would normally be, as if perhaps Merlin had actually bothered to sweep before leaving to go roam the town.

 _Somewhat_ cleaner, Arthur corrected himself, noting Merlin’s neckerchief knotted around one of the bedposts. He paused a moment to finger the familiar cloth as he considered his options.

Some illusion, cast by Uther’s ghost? Arthur didn’t think his father had such powers, but he might had learned in the years that he’d been in the world of the dead. But a strange illusion, to take him back to Camelot yet reduce him to a prince. Meant to teach him a lesson? It seemed too gentle for Uther.

Or it might be one of Morgana’s spells. Just as likely, and he knew that Morgana was more than capable of striking without warning. But again, what was the _point_ of such a spell? Was he dreaming somewhere, trapped?

Perhaps this was really all merely a fever-dream, and in reality he was lying in Gaius’s chambers, with Merlin clucking over him like a mother-hen and Gaius preparing some noxious potion to revive him.

That was the most comforting option, but Arthur doubted it.

Someone rapped at the door, and Arthur quickly dropped the neckerchief.

“Come in,” he barked. _Merlin?_

George minced into the room, holding what looked like freshly laundered tunics. Arthur’s brow furrowed. Of all the people he expected to appear in this spell, George the servant certainly wasn’t one of them. “What are you doing here? Where’s Merlin?”

“I have not seen him, my lord,” George said politely. He held up his load of laundry. “I brought you a change in tunics, for dinner.”

Arthur glanced outside. The day did seem to be darkening. “Fine. You can leave them.” A thought occurred to him – “Wait, George.” George paused by the doors. “Am I dining with the king tonight?”

Another wave of mingled grief and anger rose as he asked. It was galling, to be subject to Uther’s will once again, even as part of Arthur keened at the thought of seeing his father again.

“I believe so, my lord,” George said, still irritatingly polite. _Merlin_ would have insulted him for not knowing his own schedule. “Will that be all?”

“Yes,” Arthur said. He went to his window and rested his hands on the stone. The late afternoon sun had thrown golden light across the citadel, and he could just see the movement in the lower town, of men and women returning their homes from their fields and castle chores. An outstanding deception indeed, to recreate his world with such detail.

When he turned, George had silently left the room. _Of course_. The tunics he’d left smelled like lavender. Arthur wondered as he dressed if he should don a sword with his shirt. Was he walking into a new battle?

Most likely. It was probably best to prepare for the worst.

Someone knocked on his chamber door. Arthur let out a long breath and wondered what would happen if he just didn’t answer. Perhaps if he shut his eyes tight enough, it would all go away.

“Arthur, aren’t you ready yet?” a woman’s voice said through the door. Arthur’s head snapped up. _No._ “Don’t you dare make us late, we’ll never hear the end of it from Uther.”

 _No_.

Morgana poked her head around the door. “Oh, good, you’re alone. Didn’t want to walk in on anything.” She casually kicked the door the rest of the way open and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well?”

Arthur’s whole body had gone numb.

She looked – gods, she looked beautiful. Her curls hung down her back in glossy ringlets, and her dress was some bright blue gown Arthur vaguely remembered, with long hanging sleeves and a skirt that billowed around her ankles when she strode around the castle. Her cheeks had color to them, too, like they used to, before everything.

“Are you never going to learn how to knock?” Arthur asked.

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Don’t lecture _me_ about manners, Prince Farts-at-Feasts. Come on, I’m hungry.”

Arthur had no choice but to follow her out of his chambers, his sword left behind. She slid a familiar hand into the crook of Arthur’s elbow as they walked through the corridors, and Arthur barely stopped himself from flinching. His heart pounded as they strode past the guards and familiar tapestries, Morgana occasionally exchanging greetings with the servants they passed.

“You’re late,” Uther commented as they entered the hall.

“Arthur was preening in his chambers,” Morgana said dismissively. She slid off Arthur’s arm and greeted Uther with a kiss to his cheek before sitting down. “As usual.”

Uther’s face softened as he watched her. Arthur’s stomach lurched at the affection on his father’s features. _She broke your heart_ , Arthur thought. _She destroyed you, and there was nothing I could to do save either of you._

“You look very handsome, Arthur,” said the woman seated beside Uther, and Arthur couldn’t breathe, because it was his mother seated there, smiling at him.

It was like being dealt being a full body blow. Arthur had recalled her face a thousand times, since Morgause had tricked him with a false vision of his mother. But this – his mother was different, here. She had lines around her eyes and mouth she hadn’t then, and streaks of grey ran through her hair. She’d been allowed to grow old.

Arthur hadn’t _killed_ her.

Arthur took her hand in his, a standard courtly greeting. He had imagined her touch so many times throughout his life, whenever he wanted comfort, and her skin seemed to burn against his. She squeezed his fingers affectionately before letting his hand slide from hers.

He only faintly felt himself sitting down at the table and taking his plate. The food tasted like nothing.

Arthur couldn’t look at her, and he couldn’t look away.

Their eyes were the same shade of blue, Uther had never told him that. Her fine blonde hair was like his too. It was a marvel when she smiled at him. It was a marvel every time she drew breath, every time she raised a fork to her lips.

“I _said,_ I beat Sir Kay into the dirt on the practice field this morning,” Morgana said loudly. Arthur yanked his gaze away from Ygraine, to Morgana smirking at him across the table. “Tell me, are you actually trying to train your knights in combat, or are you just fattening them up as dragon bait?”

“You’re just that good,” Arthur said simply. A line appeared between Morgana’s brows. She’d expected him to banter with her, like they used to when they were young.

Arthur wished they had bantered less, he realized. He wished they hadn’t been as they were, both competing for Uther’s attention and chafing under the restrictions of their roles at court, both of them lonely in ways they never dared admit. _We should have been kinder to one another._

“Well, gods know that’s true,” Morgana said. She tossed her hair. “Does that mean you’re ready to surrender the army to me, then?”

The jest sent a chill up Arthur’s back. He swallowed.

“Maybe when you’re able to beat _me_ ,” Arthur said. He hoped the lofty words covered his hollow tone. Morgana made a scathing noise. Across the table, his mother sighed.

“The practice yards, tomorrow at nine?” Morgana challenged him.

“Arthur, Morgana, no issuing duels at the table,” Ygraine interjected. She looked at them severely across the table. “And your father has forbidden either of you from setting another practice yard on fire.”

“Yes, right,” Uther said, looking up from his food. “Not after last Beltane.”

“I think a duel would be a marvelous way to celebrate Arthur’s birthday,” Morgana muttered. Ygraine shot her another look, and Morgana relented with a laugh. “I suppose the feast will do.”

“My birthday isn’t tomorrow,” Arthur blurted out, nonplussed. His birthday was nearly three days ago, a day and a night before the anniversary of Uther’s death, and a day before the anniversary of his coronation.

“I certainly trust that I remember the day,” Ygraine said, sounding amused. “If not, we have a number of guests who will need to be sent home.”

 _This is a different world_ , Arthur thought. His heart pounded. A world where everything was different, because his mother had lived through birthing him – a world with no grief-madness from Uther, without any of the slaughter that had followed.

“I – I am sorry, I forgot the date,” Arthur managed. _And if no death – a world with no ban on magic_. “I’ve been distracted.”

“By Balinor’s boy?” Uther asked dryly.

That name again, _where_ had Arthur heard it before? The world spun around him.

“ _Uther_ ,” Ygraine said reprovingly. “Stop it, you know the boy’s name.”

“Do you want me to light his royal hair on fire?” Morgana asked, leaning closer to fake-whisper to Arthur. “I could do it from here, you know.”

“With magic,” Arthur said, fumbling to let the words out. “You could do it with magic.”

“Well she’s hardly going to leap across the table with a torch,” Uther said. He cut off a piece of meat and pointed his fork at Arthur. “You’re in a very strange mood tonight, Arthur.”

_Gods._

“Excuse me, I think I need some air,” Arthur managed. He pushed his chair away from the table.

Outside, the air in the courtyard was crisp and cool. Arthur let his head tip back, his eyes shut. Somewhere not far away, a minstrel troupe was practicing. For the following day’s celebration, no doubt.

There was a clack of heels on the steps behind him.

“Arthur?” Morgana called from behind him. She had followed him. She looked worried. “If you’d like, I can call Gwen and ask her to bring some flowers to make a posset – she’s gone home now, but she’d come back up to the castle if I asked.”

Oh gods, _Guinevere_.

Arthur hadn’t even thought of her, or where she might be in this. Still Morgana’s maid, apparently. Still her friend.

“No, thank you,” Arthur said, with difficulty. “I just – look, do you know where Merlin is?”

Morgana’s eyes flashed with sudden understanding. “Of course. He’s still in the stables, I think.” She hesitated. “Arthur, you know that Uther is only teasing.”

“I know,” Arthur said. _That was nothing_ , he wanted to say. _Uther threw both of us in dungeons for disobeying him_ , he wanted to say. _You had bruises on your wrists for a week after._ The idea that it was worth being upset, when all Uther had done was laugh at him, was absurd. As a child Arthur would have begged on his knees for such gentle attention from Uther.

“He’s happy for you,” Morgana added. “He’s too much of a crusty old man to show it, but he is.”

“Right,” Arthur said. What Uther was happy about, Arthur couldn’t even pretend to know. There was nothing in this world he understood.

\--

The stables were entirely dark inside. Arthur took a step forward, almost tripped over a saddle, and swore under his breath. Somewhere a horse whinnied, like it was laughing at him.

“Merlin?” Arthur called out.

“In here!” Merlin’s voice echoed from somewhere in the back of the stables. “Just a tick, and I’m yours.”

Ah, the familiar feeling of being made to wait by one’s own servant. It was soothing.

Arthur groped his way down the row between falls, surrounded by the small of straw and horses. The layout of the stables was different in this world, wider spaces and stalls of different shapes. Arthur muffled another curse as he caught his boot on a flagstone. Trust Merlin to find a way to be difficult, even in another world.

When he turned the corner, he saw that golden light spilled from one of the largest stalls. Arthur made his way towards it, feeling an indescribable tension bleed from his shoulders with each step. Whatever else this was, he was at least back with Merlin. It was like being able to breathe again. Nothing truly unbearable would happen, not so long as Merlin was around.

Arthur pushed open the stall door, and froze.

Merlin wasn’t alone.

A dusky orange serpent was curled in his lap, soft puffs of purple smoke shooting from its nostrils as it snored. One with a hide as blue as the mid-day sky lay flopped on its belly on the other side, all fours limbs absurdly extended and its wings flaring above its back. It looked like one of Camelot’s sillier citadel-cats. The most immense of them was jet black, its serpentine bulk coiled in the shadowy edges of the stall, the vivid black expanse of its hide undulating as the creature breathed. Its head rested on Merlin’s knee, mouth open and its scarlet eyes half-shut. Merlin had a curry-brush in one hand, the other pushing up the edge of the dragon’s dark lip. A golden prism of light bobbed in the air above them, blatantly magical.

“Sorry about the torches,” Merlin said cheerfully, as he scrubbed a huge tooth. “I’ve been working on the fireproofing spells, and it’s easier to do them if there’s not any flames around.” He waved a hand vaguely at the light, and his eyes flashed gold. The beacon rose higher, illuminating the stall further.

Arthur’s stallion was there too. There was an emerald green dragon draped over its neck, which hissed in irritation when the horse leaned down to grab a mouthful of hay. His horse shook its neck with a whinny, and the dragon scrambled back, sliding down his neck onto the withers. His horse kept eating, unfazed. Arthur felt faint.

“You all right?” Merlin asked. He frowned at Arthur across the stall.

Arthur took two steps in, and sat down heavily on the floor. All the strength had gone from his limbs, and his body was curiously numb. “I’m fine.”

Another dragon wriggled out from behind Merlin. This one was at least the size of a hunting hound, with silvery white scales that glowed in the light. It bounded up to Arthur and crouched at his feet, wings fluttering playfully. Arthur stared at it.

It stared back. The creature cocked its head to the side. The gesture was eerily intelligent.

 _The creature knows_ , Arthur thought, with a chill of fear. _It knows that I don’t belong here_.

The dragon butted its head against Arthur’s knee. Arthur restrained a hysteric laugh. Was this how young dragons prepared to attack?

“Aithusa, be polite,” Merlin scolded. He rolled his eyes at Arthur. “She’s been missing you all day.”

Arthur tentatively extended his hand. The dragon – _Aithusa_? Did dragons have names? – took it as an invitation to hop into his lap, and Arthur grunted at the sudden weight. The dragon’s scales were sleeker than he expected, and warm to the touch.

 _Balinor_ , Arthur suddenly remembered. The dragonlord, the one he and Merlin had set out from Camelot to find, all those years ago. Merlin had sobbed like a child when the man died, for all that they’d known him less than a day. _Balinor’s boy_. Balinor’s _son_.

 _Dragonlord_.

If Uther had never called for the purge, Balinor and his people would never have been persecuted. The dragons would still be a blight on the land, under the sole control of the dragon lords, the people Uther had executed wholescale –

All that Arthur knew of the world felt suddenly like sand, shifting beneath his feet.

“She wants to come to your feast tomorrow,” Merlin added. He shook out the brush and muttered a word under his breath. His eyes flashed gold again, and the bits of grit clinging to the bristles vanished. Merlin dug an elbow into the black dragon’s side, and it made a rumbling noise. “Open _up_.” The dragon yawned indolently, and Merlin rolled his eyes. “Lazy-arse lizard.”

“You’re…” Arthur said weakly. _Brave._ He wouldn’t have touched that beast with a ten foot lance.

Then again, he wasn’t a dragonlord. Or a wielder of magic.

Just the biggest fool in Camelot, it seemed.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked.

“It’s been a long day,” Arthur said quietly. He leaned his head back against the stall door. _Gods_ , but he’d been blind. Blind and deaf and dumb, for the last ten years of his life. He wanted to vomit, or weep.

The white dragon bumped its head against his shoulder, aggressively. Arthur automatically began to stroke her head, and Merlin shot him a grin. Arthur’s heart ached, suddenly. He hadn’t realized how little he’d seen Merlin smile like that, of late. Not that any power could dim how obnoxiously sunny Merlin’s smiles were, not _really_ , yet – it had been some time, since he had seen his servant carefree.

It had been some time since Merlin looked as happy as he did now, surrounded by these creatures. That hurt just as much as the deception, somehow.

“I have to go,” Arthur said. He lurched to his feet, pitching Aithusa off his lap. The dragon hissed indignantly and flung itself onto his boot instead. “I’m too tired for this.”

In truth, Arthur wanted to curl up in his bed and hope that when he woke up, this would all have been a terrible dream, the type of half-remembered fantasy that slipped away when Arthur forced himself to wake up.

“Want me to walk you back?” Merlin asked. He shoved the black dragon’s head away and rose to his feet.

“No,” Arthur said quickly. He did not want to look at Merlin, or listen to his lying words.

“All right,” Merlin said. He stepped closer, suddenly so close that Arthur could see how the golden light reflected off the dark blue of his eyes. Arthur’s breath caught, half in a panic.

Merlin took his face in both hands, and kissed him.

Arthur’s mind was suddenly blank. Merlin’s lips were soft against his, his hands impossibly warm on Arthur’s neck. Like another half-remembered fantasy, abandoned in Arthur’s waking hours.

“See you tomorrow,” Merlin added, before crouching down to wrest Aithusa off Arthur’s boot. She squirmed in his arms as Merlin dragged her back to his horde of dragons.

Arthur stayed rooted to the spot, his lips tingling, and the world beneath his feet once again shifting like desert sand.

\--

Camelot was different, Arthur thought, as he rode through the town on patrol the following morning. George had woken him in the morning with hot breakfast and a bath, at an appallingly timely hour, and Leon appeared just as he finished, clearly for some patrol that the Arthur of this world had scheduled. They rode through the citadel and the lower town at an easy trot, clearly a routine patrol.

Arthur would just as soon have skipped it. He’d barely slept last night, tossing and turning as images of his mother tumbled through his mind, woven through by Morgana’s laughter and Merlin’s gold eyes, and now his head ached. Worse, he had not come up with a single idea for how he might make his way home.

At least it was a beautiful day to ride through the town, even if this was not _his_ town. There were more flowers growing around the shops, and clumps of green grass around the edges of the riding paths. This Camelot had not been attacked recently, or even been under siege. They trotted past the _Rising Sun_ , and Arthur’s eyes involuntarily slid over the bright gold runes carved into the top of the door – the language of magic, undeniably.

A number of the common people had bright red banners in their windows, and children waved at Arthur from the edges of the street, shouting greetings and well-wishes. Arthur awkwardly raised his hand in response. He never knew how to quite answer the faith his people had in him.

Nor did he know how to answer to the apothecary they passed, with a half dozen pots bubbling in the stall outside the shop, all full of brilliantly colored potions that could only have been achieved through alchemy. Or the two little girls running after each other, one carrying a wooden sword and the other a badly carved staff with a creature carved into the top, shouting nonsense words at one another.

The presence of magic in Camelot could not have been more apparent. And yet, the city seemed…happy.

They trotted past the gates, and Arthur caught a glimpse of Merlin. He was dressed in a dark blue cloak and was chatting merrily to some delegation of people, all of them mounted on what appeared to Arthur’s eyes to be bright white, winged, horses. Merlin glanced at the patrol, and caught Arthur’s eye. He grinned at him and waved.

Arthur fumbled his reins, making his horse snort irritably and throw back its head. Sir Leon coughed into his hand, very clearly failing to conceal a laugh.

“Leon,” Arthur said carefully. Sir Leon winced. “Was there something you meant to say?”

“Of course not, my lord,” Leon replied. He clicked his horse forward with his tongue. Arthur pressed his horse forward, until the two of them were even. “My lord?”

“You know Merlin,” Arthur said, trying not to sound too accusatory.

“Well, yes,” Leon said. He raised his hand in greeting to another delegation of guests coming through the gates, these ones to all appearances normal knights. Arthur glared at him, and Leon shifted uncomfortably. “I – it is difficult not to know him, my lord, when he is so clearly in your, er, favor.”

“What do you think of him?” Arthur asked aggressively.

“Ah.” Leon took a deep breath. “He seems to be an upstanding youth, my lord.”

“You must have more of an opinion than that,” Arthur said. Leon glanced away. Arthur wondered, bleak for a moment, if this Leon truly understood how deeply Arthur relied on his first knight’s advice. There were few people, in his own world, whose counsel Arthur trusted as much as he trusted Leon. “On the dragons, at least.”

Leon had been on the front lines, when the great dragon attacked Camelot. Arthur remembered again that Balinor had died, trying to return to Camelot with him to drive the beast away. He pushed aside the memory of how Merlin had wept that day.

“They are…rather cute, my lord,” Leon said reluctantly. Arthur stared at him wordlessly, recalling the wounds that the great dragon had left all up and down Leon’s side. It had taken Leon weeks to heal from the burns. “If it isn’t too disrespectful to say.” Leon cleared his throat. “The little ones are rather cuddly, and I have heard report from the stablemaster that our population of rats has decreased significantly in the past months.”

“And the bigger ones?” Arthur had to ask.

“Well, I must admit,” Leon’s mouth twitched. “The thought of meeting Saxons in battle with a half-dozen of them flanking our army does appeal to me.”

Arthur fell silent. He supposed that if Merlin were somehow able to command the creatures, they would be a great asset in battle. Gods knew that Morgana only had the one, and a sickly beast at that, and the thing was a terror to _her_ enemies. “And what does Sir Elyan think?”

Elyan was certainly the most level-headed of them, perhaps even moreso than Leon. He surely had some practical words to offer on the subject of a half-dozen dragons asleep in the stables.

“Who, my lord?” Leon sounded confused. Arthur shot him a sharp look, but Leon’s face was guileless.

“Sir Elyan?” Arthur tried. Leon looked utterly blank. “What about Sir Percival? Sir Gwaine?”

“Are those knights from Essetir?” Leon asked. Arthur’s mind worked furiously. “I’m afraid I do not know them, my lord.”

“What about Sir Owain?” Arthur asked.

Leon’s face cleared. “Oh, he loves them. I believe he’s spent more time with them than I, my lord, and he claims that the dragons are far more clever hunters than falcons.” Leon chuckled. “Sir Kay enjoys them as well, although he’ll hardly admit it.”

“Hmm,” Arthur responded. So, none of his inner circle of knights had come to Camelot, in this world. The thought made Arthur uneasy. Had the code not been repealed? Of the decisions Arthur had made as a king, the opening of knighthood to common men was one of the few he had never doubted. Camelot was far stronger for Elyan and Percival’s presence, and at the very least more _interesting_ with Gwaine there.

“They like Lord Merlin too,” Leon added. Arthur eyed him, the studied casualness of Leon’s tone almost as unnerving as the phrase _Lord_ Merlin. “We all do, you know.”

“Well…good,” Arthur said awkwardly. He knew the knights liked Merlin. Sometimes Arthur thought that half of them liked Merlin more than they liked _him_. Apparently, magic had done little to change that. Leon nodded in response, and Arthur had the sense that the two of them had been having entirely different conversations.

\--

Whatever the strange commonalities this world had, Arthur’s duty was still to return to his own home. The library was quiet and dark when he entered, with none of the crowds that had begun to pack the citadel as more knights and nobles arrived.

Down here there was no one except Geoffrey, glaring at Arthur with extreme suspicion from across his desk.

“I was looking for a book,” Arthur said awkwardly.

“A _book_ ,” Geoffrey repeated.

“Yes.” Arthur glanced around. “I wanted to – to look something up. About magic.”

“Today?” Geoffrey asked skeptically.

“I do read, you know,” Arthur said. Geoffrey made an insulting _hmm_ -ing noise under his breath, but pointed to a nook in the far right of the library. Arthur hurried to it, while the librarian glared at his shoulders.

Here was a whole shelf of Camelot’s library, for books that Uther must have burned during the purge. Some were bound in leather and others as loose scrolls, sitting there as unassuming as any other shelf of old tomes. Dusty silver lettering marked the spines of a few texts, while others had looping green or purple thread words worked into the fabric.

Arthur picked one up. It felt like touching something dirty.

He had claimed many times that there was no place for magic in Camelot, but these books did not seem to take up so much space as all that.

It took very little time for Arthur to realize how poorly equipped he was for the task of understanding how he came to this world. He didn’t know where to _start_ investigating a book of magic. He flicked through scrolls with winding diagrams in languages he did not know, and found a book of densely packed text so small and scrawling it made his eyes hurt trying to decipher it.

None of them were helpful. Nor were any of them especially sinister, so far as Arthur could discern. He eventually ended up flipping through a book of magical creatures, beautifully illustrated and in a legible script.

Arthur recognized some of them – the Hydra, the Griffon, even a wyvern. According to the book, they seemed to be only animals, no more inherently dangerous than a wild boar or a wolf. It made Arthur’s stomach clench in uncomfortable ways. He had known that many of Uther’s practices were misguided, but it twisted his stomach to consider how much of his life he had wasted trying to kill these creatures.

A great deal of life had been wasted in Camelot, it seemed. Arthur rubbed his hand over his face with a sigh.

“Are you hiding from your guests down here?” Gaius’s voice sounded above him, and Arthur jumped. Gaius glanced down at the page Arthur had been inspecting, where an image of a brown dragon with deep blue wings and a long tail winding around an elephant dominated the page. “A bit of light reading?”

“Something like that,” Arthur said, shutting the book quickly. He studied Gaius. The old man was wearing finer robes than Gaius usually did, in Arthur’s world. And he learned on a tall staff of ash, with a crystal embedded in the top.

It was an open secret that Gaius had been associated with people of magic before the purge, and that he had dabbled in the practice himself. So, he had not given it up here. Yet he still looked at Arthur with the same fondness.

“What do you know about travel between worlds?” Arthur blurted out.

Gaius blinked at him. “What?”

“Well, you know…many things,” Arthur said. “About…magic…and that sort of thing.” Gaius squinted at him suspiciously. “I – I was having an argument with Morgana about it. We had a bet.” The suspicion on Gaius’s face cleared.

“Destiny takes many paths,” Gaius said. He shrugged his old shoulders. “The High Priestesses in the Isle of the Blessed use the horn of Cathbadh each year to enter the world of the dead, but I have never undertaken the rite myself. They say certain cats can slip through the veil, and that some dragons have the power to look into many worlds, all of them laid atop one another. Some places are said to be gateways.”

“Do you know how a person would travel through such a gate?” Arthur asked, trying to sound casual.

“It would take rites of extraordinary power,” Gaius said, sounding severe. “Nothing you _or_ Morgana ought to be messing about with.”

“We were only curious,” Arthur protested. Gaius snorted. Arthur supposed that _was_ a rather weak excuse, for the two of them.

“It is dangerous, and there is great capacity for accident.” Gaius fixed him with a sharp eye. It made Arthur feel younger than he was, like so many things did in this world. Arthur wondered when in the years following his coronation he had begun to feel so world-weary. “Above all, it is _inadvisable_.”

“Of course,” Arthur replied. “As I said, I only wanted to win my argument.”

Gaius shot him a patently disbelieving look as he finished picking out whatever books he had originally come down to the library to fetch. Arthur watched him, worse guilt swilling through his guts. What was Gaius here, court sorcerer? A better position than the thankless work of a court physician, surely.

“Well, whatever you are doing, at least wait until tomorrow,” Gaius said. “I’m sure your father would rather you not cause a spectacle with half of Albion visiting tonight.” Arthur had to not shiver, to hear Gaius mention his father. Uther’s ghost might have been banished, but Arthur could still feel him over his shoulder. “My lord?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said. He shut the book on the image of the dragon.

\--

When the time for the feast came, Arthur felt no wiser than he had that morning. George fetched him from the library to dress, and he met Morgana and his parents outside the doors to the Great Hall to process inside together.

Servants had decked out the hall in swathes of gold and red banners. Camelot’s finest tapestries hung along walls, and great wreathes of late flowers adorned the pillars. As he entered, Morgana on his arm, Arthur counted at least three troupes of musicians and performers stationed around the hall, with drums and flutes and small harps in their hands. Instead of torches making the hall too hot to breathe, more prisms of golden light hung floated between the tables, casting a merry glow on the faces of the seemingly hundreds of guests who had poured into Camelot for his birthday.

Arthur kept his eyes fixed on the back Ygraine’s head as she walked in front of them, her hand clasped in Uther’s.

“You look terrible,” Morgana muttered to him. “Aren’t you looking forward to this?”

“Not especially,” Arthur muttered back. Morgana squeezed his forearm sympathetically.

At the very least, tonight promised to be a spectacle. Arthur had dressed relatively simply, in a rich red shirt and with no finery save for his princely crown and his seal ring, a golden ring with the Pendragon dragon carved into the central amulet. Arthur had been wearing it when he crossed, and it seemed that it was one of his ornaments in this world as well. At least, Uther’s eyes had lingered on it approvingly when he greeted Arthur before they went into the hall.

The presence of the entire royal family meant that the feast could finally begin. Arthur twitched as Uther rose to make the opening toast. It rankled on him to not be in charge.

“Tonight, we drink to my son,” Uther said. His eyes rested on Arthur, openly warm. “The finest of men – the best leader of the knights Camelot could ask for, and an even better son.” He raised his goblet. “The Prince!”

 _“The Prince!”_ A chorus of voices answered him. Ygraine looked around Uther to smile at him as she toasted, her face full of pride. Morgana made a scoffing noise under her breath, but there was a smile at her lips as she drank too.

“And to Queen Ygraine, who went to such trouble to bear him,” Uther added, to another chorus of laughs. Arthur felt his stomach trying to revolt, and quickly gulped down his wine. It tasted like blood in his mouth. “Begin the feast!”

Arthur picked at his food without eating, his eyes roving the hall. It was strange to be at a feast without Gwaine in the center of a carousing crowd, or Percival throwing dice with the ambassadors. Leon sat at one of the lower tables, chatting with a knight Arthur barely recognized, and Arthur missed his steadying presence at the high seat. Gwen was there too, dressed in a pretty purple gown hair and holding a jug of water, laughing as she spoke with another maid. It was strange to sit at the high table without her by his side.

It was stranger still to see Merlin at another table, sitting in court finery and conversing merrily with some delegate from the Sidhe. He wore a dark blue jacket, stitched with a pattern of silver thread that looked like woven starlight.

He looked handsome in it. Merlin glanced over and caught Arthur’s eye, and smiled. Arthur flushed and almost spilled his wine. Beside him, Morgana snickered.

“Shut up,” Arthur muttered.

“You’re adorable,” Morgana replied. “It’s sickening.”

“I am not,” Arthur said automatically. He risked a glance back at Merlin. He hadn’t brought any of the dragons to the feast, save for an intricately braided silver circlet on his head, where two dragons curled together. It looked like the finery of a crown prince, if Arthur had to guess. _Gods_. How much had his servant kept from him?

As Arthur watched, Merlin knocked over a goblet of wine with an elbow, staining the cloak of the young woman sitting beside him and making her squawk indignantly. Arthur had to smile, just a bit.

“You could always just go over and talk to him, if you don’t plan on talking to me,” Morgana grumbled.

“I think I’d rather fight in a melee naked,” Arthur mumbled, as Merlin wiggled his fingers over the stain, and the liquid swirled off the woman’s cloak and back into Merlin’s cup. Morgana scoffed and rose to her feet, sweeping off to find one of her own friends to talk to instead.

Across the hall, Merlin suddenly leaned forward, another brilliant smile splitting his face open. Arthur shifted in his seat, trying to spot whoever had made Merlin so happy.

One of the guards stationed around the hall stepped away from a pillar and stopped in front of Merlin, and Arthur’s heart constricted.

Lancelot was no less handsome, dressed in the livery of a citadel guard. He ducked his head sheepishly as Merlin chattered some greeting to him and pressed a cup of wine into his hand. His hair was longer than it had been, last time Arthur saw him – when they had crossed swords for Guinevere, and Lancelot had killed himself in his cell barely hours later.

Somehow, involuntarily, Arthur rose from his seat. His feet were traveling across the hall towards them. A few people stopped him to give congratulations, or to clap him on the back, and he absorbed none of it. Arthur could not say if he intended to strike Lancelot, or embrace him.

Before he could decide, Morgana came up beside him, linking their arms again in that casual way she once had. Arthur’s eyes prickled, inexplicably. One of the bards was playing a tune that made the figures in the closest tapestry dance. A pair of knights, fighting side by side against a monstrous foe.

“What do you want?” Arthur asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound too rough.

“To stop you from embarrassing yourself,” Morgana said. She stood on her toes, using Arthur as a support as she searched the crowd with her eyes.

Lancelot bid Merlin goodbye, and made his way back towards the group of guards by the pillar. Morgana made a sudden pleased noise and slid her arm out of Arthur’s, heading straight for the man. Arthur followed in her wake.

“Well met, Lancelot,” Morgana greeted him. To Arthur’s confusion she went immediately to her knees, kneeling without hesitation on the stone floor. She peered around Lancelot’s legs. “I see you back there, Galahad.”

Arthur’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d thought there was nothing left in this world that could truly shock him.

He’d been wrong.

“Gal, greet the Lady Morgana,” Lancelot said. He sounded more amused than reproving. Morgana smiled, and the boy came tottering out from the protection of Lancelot’s shins. He was young – Arthur didn’t know enough children to gauge the age, but not more than four years old, still unsteady on his feet. “It’s her brother’s birthday today.”

He had Guinevere’s fine complexion, and Lancelot’s enormous brown eyes, and a mop of dark hair that fell around his shoulders. He let out a shriek and scrambled back behind Lancelot’s legs when he realized there were two royals staring at him.

Morgana laughed, and Lancelot shot her an apologetic look. “I believe the feast is a lot of excitement for him, my lady.”

“Of course,” Morgana said gracefully. She held her fingers to her lips and breathed a word into her palm. Her eyes flickered golden, and a blue curl of smoke lifted from her palm, unfolding into gentle purple blossoms. “I thought he might like a flower for his hair, to match his mother.”

Galahad peeked warily from between Lancelot’s knees. Arthur watched as he reached out a chubby fist and plucked the flower from Morgana’s hand, then cast beseeching eyes up at his father. Lancelot knelt down and helped the boy clumsily tuck it behind his ear.

“Ma!” Galahad shouted, and from a few tables away, Guinevere turned. Arthur had never seen her smile like she smiled at the child. Her warm eyes went to Lancelot, and they shared a soft, private, smile as their son made his way to her and grabbed hold of her skirts, tugging. “Flower?”

“It’s a cornflower, my love,” Guinevere said. She passed the pitcher she was holding to another maid, one Arthur didn’t know, and scooped Galahad onto her hip. She gently pushed his curls off his forehead. “Did you thank the Lady Morgana?”

Galahad looked at her, his eyes very serious. “T’ank you, milady.”

Morgana rose up and curtsied to him graciously. “Think nothing of it, my lord.” To Gwen, she added – “I’ll make my own bed, tonight, if you need to take him home early.”

“Thank you,” Gwen said sincerely. She flashed Arthur a smile. “And Arthur, happy birthday.”

Arthur inclined his head in thanks, his mouth dry. Gwen cast him a slightly confused smile before she put Galahad down, shooing him back towards Lancelot.

Arthur and Morgana returned to the High Table, where another cut of meat was being brought out. A capon, Arthur’s favorite dish, but he could only prod at it. He had no real appetite.

He and Guinevere had no children, but Arthur had assumed that a son or daughter would come in time, perhaps when he was less weary each night and visited her chambers more often. An heir was never the first of his concerns, not when the rest of the kingdom was so often imperiled, and Gwen had never suggested that they need start seriously trying for children. Indeed, they never broached the subject at all.

Arthur glanced down the table at Uther and Ygraine. She had a hand on his arm and their heads were bent together, whispering. Uther threw back his head and laughed, an easy sound that was utterly alien to Arthur.

Arthur pushed around piece of meat around on his plate. Somehow, the joy of this world only made him weary.

It only grew worse as the feast went on, and the guests began to present their gifts to him.

 _I can’t accept this_ , Arthur thought, as the druids bowed before him. Their gift was a cutting from a sacred tree, an oak from a grove whose name Arthur couldn’t pronounce. The old man who presented it had a kindly smile, and Arthur felt sick to his stomach. _I killed more of your people than you will ever know._

Another ambassador, from the Sidhe, gave him a gemstone that would protect him from poison. A young woman with bloodred eyes and sharp teeth curtsied politely and presented him with a bright yellow bird in a silver cage, which she swore had a song that would make the sun emerge from the clouds.

Morgana gave him a new hunting knife.

“I thought everyone would be giving you something magic,” Morgana said. Her voice lowered. “I thought something you might _actually_ get around to using one day would be better than a piece of fancy spellwork.”

The knife was perfectly balanced, Arthur thought, as he weighed it in his hand. The blade shone, so sharp that Arthur didn’t dare press his finger to test the edge. The hilt was a simple design, two knots woven together, elegant yet still eminently practical. It was a perfect gift.

“I commissioned it from Tom, so it’s from Gwen as well,” Morgana added. “She helped me design the hilt, you know I don’t have an eye for metal.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said gruffly. He had to take a deep breath. Morgana laid her hand on his arm, a simple gesture. Simple comfort. _Gods_ , but he missed her. Gods, but she deserved better than her lot in his own world.

Arthur reached for his goblet, and Morgana smacked his wrist. It was another gesture familiar enough to make his heart ache. “Watch it, I think the dragonlords are presenting their gift.”

Sure enough, Merlin was rising from his seat and coming forward, a dazzling smile on his lips. Arthur’s mouth went dry as Uther beckoned Merlin forward. A group other men and women in similar livery flanked him, though none wore such a richly embroidered doublet, nor a circlet.

He was honored among his people, Arthur thought. Merlin’s people, who were all dead in the world Arthur truly inhabited.

Merlin grinned up at him as he knelt. His eyes twinkled. Arthur stomach swooped, as he realized that by the look in Merlin’s eyes, this wasn’t the first time he’d been on his knees in front of Arthur. Heat rushed through Arthur’s body, a surge of desire and longing.

“From the dragonlords,” Merlin said. He reached behind him, where a servant in blue and silver livery was holding an object wrapped in velvet cloth. Merlin laid it flat over his palm, and flipped the velvet cloth back.

It was a book, bound between hard obsidian plates, with no design on the cover save an oval with an opalescent sheen. Merlin opened it, and Arthur’s eyes traced over the parchment within, clearly vellum as expensive as any text in Camelot’s libraries. There were images of dragons there, green ones and gold ones, and blue ones with five heads, and strange brown squatting beasts, and bright orange ones with feathers like a bird.

“A history of the dragons,” Merlin explained. He bowed. “Our scribes added a special folio for the Pendragon clan.” His eyes twinkled at Arthur again.

“How marvelous,” Ygraine said. She smiled at Merlin fondly as Arthur drew his fingers over the page. It felt like a piece of Merlin’s own people, the ones who did not even exist anymore. Such stories were lost now. “Please tell Balinor that he risks making our scribes very jealous.”

“Thank you,” Arthur added hoarsely. _I have no right to this. To any of it_.

“Our pleasure,” Merlin said. He glanced over the hall, then flashed Arthur a smile. “Can I offer you a show, as well?”

Merlin swept a hand in front of him, palm down, and a whisper of wind rushed past the High Table, enough to ruffle Arthur hair and make the sleeves of Ygraine’s gown flutter. Merlin flipped his hand palm up, and a bauble of white light rested in his palm. Merlin tossed it between his hands, then brought his palms together with a sharp clap.

He paused an instant, his hands together, then spread them wide.

A menagerie of tiny creatures of light burst from his fingers, tiny stallions that galloped through the air and brilliant white eagles to glide in and out of the wreathes of flowers, and dragons the size of his palms which soared over the heads of the guests, leaving trails of gold dust behind them like comets. Applause burst through the hall – even Uther rose to his feet, clapping vigorously as a magical serpent wiggled in and out of the points on his crown. Merlin grinned, and shot Arthur a wink as he returned to his seat.

It was beautiful. Arthur took another long draught of wine.

\--

Golden dragons were still fluttering around the rafters when Merlin slipped an arm around Arthur and said, firmly, “Come on, bedtime.”

Most of the guests had left. Arthur had a blurry memory of his mother kissing his forehead and saying to not stay up too late, and then him dragging Leon down into the vacated seat beside him after Morgana left for the night, them discussing patrols.

Where had Leon gone? Arthur hadn’t been _done_ with the patrol schedule.

“He went home, silly-arse,” Merlin said.

Oh, so Arthur had said that out loud.

“So did almost everyone else, I bet the servants have been wringing their hands for hours waiting,” Merlin said. His breath was warm against Arthur’s neck. Arthur noted that his feet were moving, and that they seemed to be staggering along a familiar corridor to his chambers. “Come on, move along or I’ll leave you here.”

“You wouldn’t,” Arthur said. He hiccupped.

“Try me,” Merlin said. But he still seemed to be guiding Arthur along, until they were stumbling into Arthur’s own chambers. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and the hearth fire crackled to life, along with the torch beside Arthur’s bed.

“S’easier that way,” Arthur mumbled. He sat down heavily on the bed.

“It is, isn’t it,” Merlin replied with amusement. He tipped Arthur’s chin up. Arthur stared up at him, the blood in his ears rushing. The torchlight flickered against his cheeks, and Arthur thought again that he was beautiful.

 _Kiss me_ , Arthur thought. He didn’t know if he’d said it out loud or not, but Merlin did, swooping down and pressing their mouths together.

Merlin had soft lips. Arthur had always thought he would have soft lips. He’d never – this wasn’t a fantasy he was allowed. Not Merlin kissing him like this, his hands cradling Arthur’s face, as gentle and slow as if they had all the time in the world. As if there was nowhere in the world better to be than his chambers this night, together.

“You love me,” Arthur said thickly, when they separated.

“Yeah, I know that,” Merlin replied fondly. He pressed their foreheads together, a hand still cupping Arthur’s jaw. He was smiling. Arthur closed his eyes and tilted his face up, and Merlin kissed him again. Like they could do this as many times as they wanted.

Merlin pulled away, and Arthur made a soft wounded noise in his throat.

“Come on,” Merlin said, kneeling in front of him. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat, but Merlin was just sliding his boots off, then chucking them haphazardly to the side. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

It was familiar, Arthur raising his arms above his head as Merlin stripped off his shirt, kicking off his pants. He collapsed backwards onto the coverlet as the world spun. “Will you stay with me?”

“Where did you think I was going?” Merlin asked. Clothing rustled behind him. “Budge over.” Arthur shifted, as Merlin yanked the bedclothes down beneath him. He’d changed into what was clearly one of Arthur’s nightshirts.

Arthur made another grumbling noise as Merlin pulled the blankets back up over them. Merlin tucked the coverlet around Arthur’s shoulder before curled up under it himself. He mumbled something, and the fires flickered out across the bedchamber, only the coals in the hearth still casting a dim light.

It was…peaceful. Merlin’s breathing filled the room, soft and even.

“Would you still love me if I was a bad person?” Arthur whispered.

Merlin rolled over. With the banked fire, all he could see was the starlight shine of Merlin’s eyes.

“But you’re not a bad person,” Merlin replied softly. “Arthur, you’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

“That’s not an answer,” Arthur said thickly.

“What brought this on?” Merlin breathed. He reached out with one hand, tracing the line of Arthur’s cheekbone. “What’s wrong?”

 _Everything_ , Arthur thought miserably. He rolled over so his back was to Merlin, and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Oh, Arthur,” Merlin murmured. Arthur felt the mattress dip, and then Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur from behind. “There’s nothing in the world, all right? No matter what tournaments you lose or what you say in council, or what anyone says about _you_. You and me, forever.”

Arthur squeezed his eyes tighter. Something was building in his chest, some sort of awful honest sob that would rip him apart if it ever came out.

“Shh,” Merlin murmured. He kissed Arthur’s neck, the gentlest touch. “Sleep, Arthur. It’ll be better in the morning.” His arms around Arthur tightened, as if there was nothing in the world that could tear him away.

Arthur fell asleep with Merlin’s chin tucked against his shoulder, and his hands stroking Arthur’s hair, a hundred times gentler than he deserved.

\--

George woke them up discreetly, with a platter of sweet-smelling rolls on the bedside table by Arthur’s pillow and a sharp rap on the door as he slipped from the room, a model of the decorum. Arthur dragged a pillow back over his head with a moan as Merlin tumbled out of bed and started tossing open windows, as obnoxious in the mornings as the real Merlin.

Arthur opened an eye and glared at him, once it was clear that neither he nor the sunlight was going away. Merlin had put on a scarlet shirt, unlaced at the front so it fell open over his chest, exposing the fine line of his collarbone. He had _certainly_ stolen that from Arthur. Apparently, that was one of Merlin’s habits in this world. Arthur wondered if his counterpart found it endearing or irritating.

Then again, most of Merlin’s personality was about skating that line, so perhaps it was both.

“My delegation is going to stick around for a few more days,” Merlin chattered, as he stole a sweetroll off the plate and shoved it into his mouth. He spoke around it as he wandered around Arthur’s chambers, as comfortable as if he owned the castle. “My father will want some word sent back to him, and it’s best if it comes straight from me. They’ll want to look at Aithusa again too, you know how anxious everyone is about her back home.”

Arthur dressed more slowly, fighting the pounding in his head. He’d had far too much to drink last night, more than he usually felt comfortable indulging in as a king. A wave of nausea swirled through his stomach as he sat down on the bed to tie his boots, and he had to fight not to whimper.

“Here,” Merlin said, suddenly very close to him. Before Arthur could object, Merlin pressed his palm against Arthur forehead and muttered a word. Arthur felt a pulse of heat, and his nausea was gone. Merlin shot him a grin, already moving away. “You’re welcome.”

The spell left his head clear as well, perhaps more than it had been for days.

“Do that again,” Arthur said softly, to Merlin’s back.

Merlin turned around, looking surprised. “Sorry?”

“An act of magic,” Arthur repeated. He rose to his feet. “Another one, for me.” He paused. “Please.”

“Is this because I gave you a book for your birthday?” Merlin asked teasingly. “You know that was really from my father.” His eyes flickered down, over Arthur’s body. “You’d had a bit too much to drink for what I really wanted to give you.”

“Just…” Arthur hesitated, even as his skin warmed. “Just do it, please.”

“Here,” Merlin said. He reached for Arthur’s hand. Arthur couldn’t breathe as Merlin brought Arthur’s fingers to his lips. “ _Áwæcne_ ,” he whispered, his breath tickling over Arthur’s knuckles. Arthur swallowed as Merlin’s eyes turned gold.

Merlin lowered Arthur’s hand, smiling.

His ring was moving. Arthur stared at the tiny dragon sigil as it uncurled from the signet, falling down onto the table with a tiny chirp. The luster of the scales was brilliant, brighter than any goldsmith’s polish. Its eyes were two shining black dots, peering inquisitively up at him and Merlin. It was perhaps as long as Arthur’s pinky, and had wings fine as gossamer.

“What am I supposed to do if I have to sign something?” Arthur asked.

“You’re such an ungrateful prat,” Merlin said. He smiled as he said it. “Look – _geswefe_.”

The dragon opened its mouth and let out a tiny yawn. Arthur watched in silence as it clambered back over his fingers and somehow fell _into_ the ring, coiling back into its engraved pose as its scales dulled back to regular gold. It was lovely, and harmless, and pure magic.

“It’s just dragon tongue,” Merlin said. His grin belied the modesty. Arthur had the idea that it took more power than Merlin was letting on, to breathe life into a ring. In fact, Arthur thought, it took more power than he could imagine. The power to make _life_.

Merlin didn’t even look _tired_.

“You can do it yourself, if you like,” Merlin added. He met Arthur’s eyes, his too soft. “Whenever you feel like you need a friend, all you have to do is say the word.”

So, Merlin didn’t plan to let the last night go. That was typical.

Arthur sighed. “Merlin…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Merlin asked. Arthur flinched. Merlin reached out, taking his hand very gently. “I could get Morgana, if you don’t want to talk to me. Or I could fetch your mother.” Arthur flinched again, harder. Merlin’s eyes grew dark with worry. “Arthur, what’s _wrong_?”

Arthur pulled his hand away, and took a deep breath. If he had given his own Merlin nothing except grief and persecution, he could at least give this one his honesty.

“I’m not your Arthur Pendragon.”

Merlin smiled, clearly puzzled. “That’s odd, because you look just like him.”

“I’m…” Arthur swallowed. “I’m from another world.”

“Sorry?”

“You must know a spell to tell if I’m lying,” Arthur said. He took a reckless step closer to Merlin, whose eyes went wide. “I’m not the man you know, I’m a traveler from another realm, I swear it.”

Arthur felt something behind his skull again, another hard pulse.

“What did you do with my Arthur?” Merlin asked, his voice sharp as a sword, and something golden starting to smolder in his pupils. Arthur had the sudden sense of pressure building in the room, like a storm moving in.

“Nothing,” Arthur said quickly. “I came here by accident.”

“ _How_?” Merlin demanded.

“The Horn of Cathbdhah,” Arthur said. He rubbed a hand wearily over his face. “A day ago, I was using it to banish a spirit from my world, and it brought me here, I don’t know how.”

“Moving between worlds is dangerous, and the veil becomes more tattered the more men move through it,” Merlin muttered. His eyes swept over Arthur. “The days around your birth might make it even more unstable, especially using an artifact as powerful as the horn.”

“I don’t see how I was supposed to know that,” Arthur said stiffly.

“You _are_ like Arthur,” Merlin said. He stepped back, drawing away from Arthur. The room still seemed to pulse with nervous power. “You look just like him, there’s almost no physical difference…” Merlin squinted. “You might be a bit heavier.”

“Hey!” Arthur protested sharply.

“Oh, _just_ like him.” Merlin snickered.

“I’m the King of Camelot, in my world,” Arthur warned him. Merlin’s eyes softened slightly, as if in sympathy – but the title clearly didn’t impress him, which Arthur supposed was typical. “I need to return home.”

“Of course,” Merlin said. He ran a hand through his hand, mussing it. “We need to retrieve my Arthur as well, wherever he is.”

Arthur couldn’t quite say how he felt about belonging to Merlin, except to wonder if the Merlin of his world would claim him the same way. Merlin might, he was often startlingly proprietary for a servant. Arthur would certainly claim _him_.

“I have to talk to the priestesses,” Merlin mumbled. He strode to Arthur’s mantelpiece and snatched the pitcher of water George had left there. Arthur watched as he dumped the contents of Arthur’s fruitbowl over the table and began to pour water into the bowl. “The horn of Cathbdhah is kept on the Isle of the Blessed, they keep it in a sacred vault.”

Merlin spun his fingers over the bowl and snapped out an incantation that cast a bright sheen over the surface of the water.

“You think you might be able to use it to send me home?” Arthur asked.

“Maybe,” Merlin said as he swirled the water with a hand. “Depends on the state of the veil.”

“If it’s kept in some sacred vault, how are we supposed to use it?”

“Oh, they’ll loan it to me,” Merlin said. “Believe me.”

Arthur watched as the face of a woman shimmered into being in the bowl. Arthur had heard legends of such a practice, but never seen it. For an instant he let himself consider it, the immense strategic power of being able to speak directly to his allies, with no need to send missives by unreliable messenger or risk a bird in the air.

“You should go,” Merlin said. He looked up from the bowl to cast Arthur a sharp look. “The spellwork here isn’t meant for mortal ears.”

Arthur had never been thrown out of his own chambers before, let alone by Merlin. He opened his mouth, then shut it. What would he have to say to the high priestesses, anyway?

“And don’t get into trouble!” Merlin added, as Arthur left his chambers.

\--

Arthur found himself wandering the lower town, for lack of anything else to do. It was quiet today, as if most of yesterday’s revelers were still sleeping off the celebration. A chill wind ghosted through the streets, making goosepimples rise on the exposed skin of his hands and neck.

He supposed he should have known whose door he would find himself at.

Gwen opened at the first knock. “Arthur? What can I do for you?”

“Can I come in?” Arthur asked. She opened the door wide for him.

Arthur hadn’t stepped inside Gwen’s old house for many years – he had some vague idea that Elyan still owned it, and kept it despite having chambers in the castle, but he hadn’t asked about it. It would have gone to Elyan after Gwen was first banished, and Arthur and Elyan had kept carefully distant during those weeks.

Still, he knew it hadn’t been like this. There were a dozen potted plants growing by the door and windows, and a half-dozen children’s toys scattered around the simple earthen floor. Arthur spotted a tiny wood-carved knight with a scrap of red cloth for a cloak, and a stuffed silvery griffin.

There was a pair of men’s boots lying by the door too, and a few white linen shirts drying on a line by the kitchen window. _Lancelot_.

“Arthur, did you need something?” Gwen asked. “Lancelot is on duty by the eastern gate, but I could fetch him.”

“And your son?” Arthur asked.

Gwen’s brow furrowed. “Galahad is with my father this afternoon.”

Arthur looked around the home again. “I see.”

Gwen fidgeted with her hands, still smiling politely, and Arthur thought that they must not be particularly close, in this world. If they were not, that was to the other Arthur’s loss.

“Gwen, do you ever feel as if your whole life has been lived wrong?” The words tumbled out.

Her eyebrows rose, and Arthur flushed. “My lord?”

“A strange question, I know,” Arthur said, feeling foolish.

“I certainly think that I am where I’m meant to be,” Gwen said. Her eyes flickered around her home, a quiet fondness in them.

Arthur realized there was no true anger in him, for her marriage to Lancelot. Only a quiet regret, that he had offered her nothing but a queen’s cold chambers and a lifetime of burdensome duty. Whatever jealousy he had was a tight and complicated snarl in his chest, tangled longing and insecurity.

“I’m glad for you.” Arthur shook his head. “I – I don’t know why I came here, to be quite honest. Forgive me, I’ve intruded on your day.”

“Why Arthur, that almost sounded like an apology,” Gwen teased gently. “Did someone teach the prince of Camelot some humility today?”

“Something like that,” Arthur said.

He turned to go, to leave her in peace with the life she’d built in this world.

“But I do sometimes think that I am not where I will be for all my life,” Gwen added. Arthur blinked at her as she lifted her chin proudly. “I don’t know that I would call myself an ambitious woman, but there are things I believe should be changed, and wrongs in this world to be made right.”

Gods, but she sounded like Lancelot, so many years ago. Or perhaps Lancelot had really gotten it from her.

“So I have not wasted my years, but neither have I done all that I intend to do with them,” Gwen said. She smiled at him. “You will be hearing from me when you become king, Arthur.”

“I should just start listening to you now, I expect,” Arthur said. Gwen laughed at that, and the sound made Arthur smile slightly.

“I don’t believe you have lived your life so ill either,” Gwen said, her voice softer. Arthur looked away from her earnest gaze. He knew perfectly well what his father thought of his reign as king – and now, so much worse, Arthur thought that perhaps Uther had been right, that Arthur had made a thousand poor decisions and cruel mistakes, but that Uther did not even understand what choices he had made that had been so poor. Indeed, that Uther’s choices had been worse, and perhaps Arthur had done nothing but reap the grief that his father sewed. “Are you okay, Arthur?”

“Perhaps not,” Arthur admitted, feeling the heartsickness rise again. 

“Will you be?”

For that, Arthur had no real answer. Only that he perhaps did not even know how.

\--

Merlin was waiting for him at the castle steps. He had the horn in one hand.

Arthur stopped. “How did you get it so quickly?”

“We transported it with magic,” Merlin said. “You can move things through mist and water, if you really need to.” His eyes swept over Arthur. “I spoke at length with the High Priestesses. I can do what has to be done, to send you back home.” _And bring my Arthur back_ , went unsaid.

“Great,” Arthur said.

“We can leave tonight,” Merlin added. “We should try to get to the Stones of Nemeton before dawn tomorrow. I don’t want to waste any time.”

He headed for the stable, and Arthur trailed behind him. He supposed he should have known that the fastest way to get himself home would have been just to ask Merlin to do it. 

They saddled their horses in the back of the stables, where Merlin kept his pack of dragons. Arthur’s horse greeted him affectionately, unmindful of the fact that the fat blue dragon was drowsing on its back. Merlin whistled at it and the dragon hopped off into a pile of straw, which blew up in clouds around them.

At the sound, the white dragon, Aithusa, came tumbling down from the rafters. She landed awkwardly on her back legs and stumbled over her own tail before leaping over to Merlin, nipping at his hands as he tried to bridle his mount.

“She seems different than the rest of them,” Arthur observed, as he buckled the straps of his saddle. As if sensing an easier target, Aithusa swished away from Merlin and began to yank at Arthur’s cloak.

“She’s a baby,” Merlin explained. “Under a year old. Absolutely no self-control, and she can barely talk yet.”

“But – ” Arthur looked at the two dragons still hanging around the stall. There was a pink one with a pearly hide slinking around his horse’s hooves, and a long one with grass-green scales lounging on a post in the sun. “She’s bigger than half of them.” A thought occurred to him. “Do they – do dragons have breeds, like horses?”

“Not exactly,” Merlin said. He paused. “To hatch a dragon, a dragonlord has to call it into the world. The sort of dragon depends on the dragonlord, mostly. And dragons are creatures of magic, they grow stronger if they’re exposed to it often. And someone people say that there are other factors.”

“Like what?” Arthur asked. Aithusa tugged his sleeve again, more aggressively, and Arthur submitted to petting her. She liked being scratched under the chin, he found.

“Love,” Merlin said. “They grow stronger if they’re around it.”

Arthur frowned. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what you said the first time I told you,” Merlin muttered. He picked up Aithusa and put her back into the straw bed. “Aithusa, _ætsitte_.”

The dragon sulkily sank down on her haunches. She glared at Merlin balefully as he finished bridling his horse, and spoke some other words in the dragon tongue to her. She shot him one more resentful look before curling up in a corner, her head tucked under her tail.

“Do the always have to do what you say?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” Merlin said. He paused. “Well – they won’t _really_ have to until after my father dies. The power to command is inherited, same as any other title. But they know me, and I learned the dragon tongue from when I was very young. Why?”

“Just curious,” Arthur said, thinking about the dragon which had attacked Camelot as they led the horses out. He looked back up at the castle steps. “I have to say farewell to my mother, before we go.”

“Of course you do.” Merlin sounded resigned. “Be quick about it, won’t you?”

“I can try,” Arthur said.

\--

He found Queen Ygraine in her chambers, the same queen’s chambers were Gwen now resided. She was wearing an embroidered white robe, and sitting at her desk with a quill, doing some task no doubt connected to the previous day’s festivities. A great deal of royal diplomatic work always went into a grand feast.

“Why, Arthur,” Ygraine said, looking surprised to see him there in the middle of the day. “What can I do for you?”

Arthur gazed at her, wishing that he could capture her face in his memory forever. The wrinkles of concern around her eyes as she looked at him, the strong line of her jaw, the way that the light touched her when she smiled at him.

“I’m headed out,” Arthur said awkwardly. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Hunting with the knights?” Ygraine asked. Her eyes suddenly twinkled. “Or are you and Morgana going to stir up some trouble?”

“Just hunting,” Arthur said. “I’m taking Merlin.”

“Oh, of course,” Ygraine shot him a mischievous smile. “Will you be taking any of your men along, or just him?”

“Just Merlin,” Arthur said.

“Good,” Ygraine said. She put aside a piece of parchment, some letter she had been working on. “You know Arthur, that I would love anyone who made you happy.” Arthur opened his mouth, about to make some awkward denial. “But I do find him rather lovely, you know.”

“I know,” Arthur said. “So do I.” Which was nothing but the truth, really. Ygraine laughed.

Arthur looked and her, and wished, suddenly with his entire heart and body, that he could stay in this world forever, in the light of his mother’s love. That he could just fling his crown aside and draw her to him, and spend the rest of his lie in the safety of her arms, his kingdom and his world be damned.

As if she knew, she stepped forward and embraced him. Arthur let himself slump into her arms and bury his face in her hair. She was so much slighter than him, but there was an impossible strength in her arms as she wrapped them around him.

“Is something wrong, Arthur?” she asked softly, without letting him go.

“Nothing,” Arthur said, into her hair. Ygraine’s arms tightened. “I just came to say goodbye, that was all.”

 _Be a king, and let her go_ , Arthur told himself. _Do what Uther could not_.

He forced himself to pull away from her.

“Have a good trip,” Ygraine told him, as she seated herself back at her desk. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut in an instant of grief, then pushed his way through the doors and out of her chambers.

He did not make it more than two steps down the corridor before he almost collided with Uther. Arthur took two rapid steps back, his heart hammering as his father blinked at him. He had avoided Uther, had barely spoken to him past their first conversation.

In truth, he did not know what he wanted to say. This man was a stranger to him.

“Ah, Arthur,” Uther said, after a pause. “I thought you might still be abed, after last night’s revels.”

“No,” Arthur said. “No, I believe I’m awake at last.”

“I had a spare moment, and thought I would stop in to see your mother,” Uther added. “We’ve had another letter from Agravaine asking about sending one of his sons to Camelot to squire for you, and she will help me in picking the likelier boy.”

Arthur thought of his uncle’s face as pale as clay, dead and unburied on the floor of a cavern somewhere by Ealdor. He had no sons, and as far as Arthur knew, there had been no love in his life. One more man who had been driven to grief and madness by the loss of someone he cared for – and worse, by Uther’s cruelty and callousness in the wake of it.

 _And for what?_ Arthur thought. _What did Camelot gain from it? What did you, father?_

“Did you need anything, Arthur?” Uther asked.

“No,” Arthur said. He left, and this time he trained his eyes to look forward, not back.

\--

They rode through the forest and across the southern hills, which hadn’t changed so much from the ride Arthur had taken only days ago. Though Arthur caught a glimpse of a unicorn between the trees, and saw strange birds sometimes in the sky, the land itself was the same.

They stopped to camp at dusk, only a few miles from the stones. The ritual to send Arthur back would be completed at dawn.

Merlin had thought to bring them a packed meal of meat and cheese, and an apple each. He built them a fire too, sparking the flames with nothing more than a snap of his fingers. He didn’t eat, though, just restlessly turned the apple over in his hands, his nails digging into the red skin.

“I’m sure your Arthur is fine,” Arthur said.

“I don’t think he’s even in your world,” Merlin said. He tapped his fingers against his leg, the way Merlin always did when he was nervous. “I think he’s probably just – drifting, between. You didn’t open up a passage, so far as we could tell. Just sort of dropped yourself here, like a stone tossed in a lake.” Merlin shook his head. “He’s probably fine.”

“For your sake, I hope he is,” Arthur said. Merlin shot him a quick glance.

“Thanks,” he said.

Silence reigned through the camp. For few minutes, Arthur could almost pretend that this was some hunting trip, and that the man across the fire was _his_ Merlin, worrying himself over some stupid thing like Arthur’s stirrups or whether the deer they’d killed might have had babies.

“You alright?” Merlin asked.

Arthur glared at him. “You know, you’re a lot like my Merlin too. You both never leave things well alone.”

“Probably because we both worry about you,” Merlin said. Arthur scoffed. Merlin rolled his eyes.

Arthur reached for one of the sticks of firewood, and began to strip off the bark. Merlin’s eyes followed the motion. The fire between them crackled and Merlin leaned forward, gently blowing on the sparks. A small dragon formed there, twirling happily through the smoke until it dissipated into trails of orange and yellow.

“What can you tell me about my birth?” Arthur asked abruptly.

Merlin blinked at him. “For anyone but you, that would be an odd question.”

“Just answer,” Arthur said. He added quickly – “I mean. _Please_ answer.”

Merlin shrugged. “I wasn’t there, of course. But I do know the stories.”

“There are stories?”

“It took work to bring you into the world,” Merlin said. “A whole council of sorcerers came together, to help Uther and Ygraine conceive. She was in labor for three days, with druids praying and enchantresses crying the healing songs – even my people had a representative there, we brought white dragon scales to grant her good luck. I think every kingdom in Albion must have had a celebration when you finally showed up.”

“Oh,” Arthur said quietly.

“You were wanted,” Merlin said. “That’s how I always thought of it. Your parents wanted you more than they wanted anything else. Before you were even alive, you were loved.”

“Oh,” Arthur repeated. There was very little else to say.

“Was it not so, in your world?” Merlin asked carefully. Arthur shot him a hard look. “Did you know, you flinch whenever I mention Uther?” Arthur glanced away. “For the record, I’m not fond of the man. I think he’s too hard on you.”

Arthur laughed bitterly, despite himself. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really,” Merlin said bluntly.

“In my world, Ygraine died in childbirth,” Arthur tore another piece of bark off the stick. Merlin’s eyes had gone wide. “And Uther was so mad with grief that he purged magic from Camelot. Everyone burned. Anyone who so much as breathed in the direction – children drowned, and women. Uther killed them all.” Arthur looked at him directly. “The dragons too. There are no living dragonlords, in my world. I got the last one killed.” _Except for you_.

Merlin’s face was bone white. Arthur tossed the stick viciously on the fire.

“He was a hypocrite, and a liar,” Arthur finished. “Perhaps the greatest I ever met. There is nothing frightening about magic, it seems. All we had to fear was the hatred we created.” _And how many innocent people did we ruin, with that hatred?_

“Gods, Arthur,” Merlin whispered. He sat up and leaned forward, his eyes almost frightened. “What did he do to you?”

“To _me_?” Arthur asked, thrown.

“A cruel man usually makes for a cruel father,” Merlin said. His hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out and cup Arthur’s face again. “You know that you could never be him, don’t you?”

“ _That’s_ what you ask me about?” Arthur asked helplessly. “All that, and you’re worried about me?”

“I told you, I’m always worried about you,” Merlin said. He scrutinized Arthur. “You’re a better man than him.”

“You show a great deal of faith, for someone who met me hours ago,” Arthur said flatly. He reached for another branch. Merlin’s constant, unquestioning, faith, the loyalty he had had at his side for so many years. So it reached across worlds. “You don’t even know me.”

 _We don’t know each other._ Whatever Merlin’s faith, he had clearly never had his friend’s trust. It made Arthur’s chest feel hollow. What had he done to earn that trust, after all?

“You’re my destiny,” Merlin said simply. “Whatever world. Of course I know you.”

“Maybe in your world.” Arthur shook his head. “Not in mine.”

“You’re wrong.”

“We’re not together, in my world.” Arthur watched something startled flicker over Merlin’s face. “You’re my manservant, actually.” Appointed by Uther himself, and Arthur keenly felt the irony.

“Oh,” Merlin said. He paused. “Is that why you look so miserable all the time?”

“Hey!” Arthur protested.

“You do,” Merlin insisted. Arthur grimaced. Merlin studied him. “I know kingship is a burden. But it doesn’t seem like it should come with as much unhappiness as all that.”

“It isn’t all bad,” Arthur said. His mind flashed to his knights, to Guinevere, to the countless days and nights of quiet work with Merlin at his side. Camelot was prosperous, and its people were happy, for the most part. There was peace, even justice - the slow building of the better world he had dreamed of. If he was lonely despite that dream, what did it matter?

“You deserve more than just that,” Merlin told him. Arthur scoffed. “What?”

“You’re very presumptuous about what I do and don’t deserve.”

“Someone should be.” Merlin’s eyes flickered over him again, in that searching way. “You’re not a bad person.”

“ _Stop it_ ,” Arthur warned.

“No,” Merlin replied. Arthur glowered at the fire. “Listen – ”

“You _lied_ to me,” Arthur said harshly. It was speak harshly, or weep. “You cannot know how many times you lied to me.” The worst part was, Arthur could scarcely blame him. All he could do was hurt for them both, for Merlin never trusting him and for himself, at never having the opportunity to prove that trust would be warranted.

Merlin hesitated. “I did wonder, at your kingdom’s laws…”

“Why would you lie to me, if…” Arthur shook his head. _If I was worth the truth._ "Why would you lie for so long?"

Merlin let out a long breath. “I don’t know, Arthur. But I do know that I’d do a lot to stay by your side, and if being a manservant was what it took, I’d bow my head and suffer through it. Though I can’t imagine I’d be very good at it.”

That forced a laugh out of Arthur. “You’re not, you’re terrible. The worst servant I’ve ever had.”

“Then why do you keep me around?”

Arthur looked away at that. It didn’t seem like enough to say that life without Merlin was unimaginable, had been from the first weeks when Merlin inserted himself so thoroughly into Arthur’s life that his absence was scarcely bearable. In the face of that, Merlin’s inability to sweep a floor always seemed fairly inconsequential.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, gently insistent.

“It doesn’t matter,” Arthur said. For a thousand reasons, it didn’t matter. Arthur had committed himself to Gwen years ago. He was a king, who could hardly go dallying around with his manservant, no matter that his reign now was different than what things had been under Uther. And besides, Merlin would never have him, even if Arthur offered.

“When I say that you’re my destiny, I’m not just being romantic, you know,” Merlin said. “I’m talking about real prophecy, things that are known throughout the land, from the dragons to the druids.”

“I don’t think anyone, a dragon included, could make my Merlin do anything he didn’t want to,” Arthur told him.

“That’s the point, you idiot, I always _do_ want you,” Merlin said. “I always will.”

Arthur shook his head. “Merlin – ”

“I know that things are changed in your world. I don’t care. _Everything_ changes, Arthur. People are changed by their circumstances. A spell may change based on the sorcerer who casts it.” Merlin made a wide gesture. “The stars themselves can be altered, if you really want to.”

“No they can’t,” Arthur muttered.

“I made you a new constellation once,” Merlin told him. Arthur blinked at him. “So shut up. My point is, the only thing that does not change, and which keeps all worlds tethered, is love. It binds us and it keeps us, for good or for ill. And it binds us as well. You and me, forever.”

“I don’t think that my Merlin feels the same,” Arthur said quietly.

“Have you ever _asked_ him?” Merlin asked. Arthur looked away again, and Merlin let out a quiet breath. “Perhaps one day, you should try.”

\--

They went to the Great Stones of Nemeton just as the sun began to break over the horizon. Arthur slid his mother’s ring back on his finger as Merlin circled the stones, whispering a chant into the wind. A strange mist had begun to gather around them, thick and white as snow.

“Get ready,” Merlin called to him. He raised the horn to his lips, and the sound of the horn whistled through the great structure. Merlin lowered it and nodded to the stones.

Arthur stepped forward. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Merlin said.

“Goodbye then,” Arthur told him, and began to walk into the mist.

He paused, then turned back around, to Merlin.

“Lancelot should be a knight,” Arthur said. The mist was now as tall as his knees. “Before – before I go, you need to know that. He is the finest swordsman in Camelot, and he’s a good man. He deserves that honor.”

“I’ll tell Arthur,” Merlin promised.

“Tell him he needs to find Gwaine too. And Percival, and Gwen’s brother, Elyan.” Arthur took a deep breath. “They are not of noble birth. But they will be the truest and the finest knights Camelot has ever seen, and he will need them.”

“You’ll need to upend the entire code of the knights,” Merlin said carefully. Arthur nodded. Merlin exhaled. “All right then. Will you do something for me, in return?”

“Anything,” Arthur said honestly.

“Be brave for me, when you return to your world,” Merlin said. “Try to be happy.” Arthur met his eyes, and Merlin stepped forward to the mist, catching Arthur’s hand and pressing a chaste kiss to his fingers. 

“I can try,” Arthur whispered. Merlin let Arthur’s hand slip away.

He stepped into the stone circle, where the mist was now gathered as high as his waist. Behind him, he heard Merlin chanting softly, in a tongue Arthur did not know. The light through the stones was pale blue, like the light just before dawn, and the mist was growing thicker. Arthur kept walking forward, into the haze.

There was another Arthur there. His eyes widened when they fell on Arthur, and for a second they stared at one another. _He looks like Ygraine_ , Arthur thought. Then he took another step forward, and they were lost to one another, and Arthur was stepping into cold, dry, air.

The southern fields stretched around him, bare except for a trickle of smoke rising from behind one of the rocky outcrops. The mist was gone, and so was Merlin.

Arthur made his way to the trickle of smoke. When he came closer, he saw that two horses grazed in the hollow beside the outcropping.

 _His_ Merlin was curled there by the fire, his head resting on a leather pack. His face was gaunt, and there were puffy purple shadows under his closed eyes. Arthur paused, watching as Merlin twitched in an uneasy sleep. It was difficult to picture any man looking less like a powerful sorcerer.

He crouched down, and shook Merlin gently. Merlin came awake with a start, eyes wide.

“Arthur!” He scrambled to a sitting position, a smile lighting up his entire face. Arthur’s heart ached as Merlin stumbled clumsily to his feet, grinning like the sun had come out.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked.

“Looking for you, you’ve been missing for two days.” Merlin’s eyes flew over him. “The knights are scouring the forests, but I came here.” Merlin raised his jacket, so Arthur could see the Horn of Cathbdhah attached to his belt. “I thought Uther might have taken you with him.”

“What were you going to do?” Arthur asked, honestly curious.

“See if you came back on your own, then go find you myself,” Merlin said with a shrug. 

Arthur laughed slightly. “You were going to what, just walk into the world of the dead and bring me back with you?”

“Something like that,” Merlin said.

Arthur studied him. _I doubt I’ve been at your side for ten years just because I like being a manservant_. “You know, Merlin, your loyalty is extraordinary.”

“Yeah well, I’d never be able to find a new job if you vanished,” Merlin said. “ _Were_ you in the world of the dead?”

“Not exactly,” Arthur looked away. “Come on, we should get back to Camelot and recall the knights before anyone else finds out I’m missing.”

It was a quiet ride back. They buried the stone in the dirt by one of the central stones. It felt wrong to Arthur now to bring it to the vaults of Camelot, to be locked up with the dozens of other magical artifacts that Uther had plundered. Merlin didn’t comment on the decision, but Arthur thought he’d seen approval in Merlin’s eyes, now that he knew to look for it. 

\--

Elyan was the first one to meet them, on the road back to Camelot. He let out a delighted shout, and twisted his horse around, hands cupped around his mouth. “Percival! They’re here!” He kicked his horse forward to meet Arthur’s and clasped his arm, smiling. “By the gods, it’s good to see you, sire.”

“Likewise,” Arthur responded, honestly.

Percival rode his horse from where he’d been tracking in the forest, and his smile when he saw Arthur was just as broad. He gave Arthur a bruise through his armor clapping him on the back, and rode ahead of them back to Camelot, so that Leon was waiting for him by the gates, joy radiating from him.

Gwaine was in the courtyard, still in mail and holding his horse by the reins when they entered the citadel gates. Percival had gone to wait with him.

“Did you miss me?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine, who had deep purple shadows under his eyes and looked like he’d been wearing his armor for two days straight, scoffed. “Of course not, I’ve been having a lovely few days off from training.”

“Of course,” Arthur replied. He watched as Gwaine moved to help Merlin off his horse, a feeling of deep fondness in his chest. They were _his_ knights, the best any world could offer.

“Arthur,” a voice called from the steps.

It was Gwen. She had a purple robe wrapped around her, rather than a formal gown, and no crown, with her hair messy down her back and a bruise still marring the side of her jaw. She must have rushed from Gaius’s chambers, when Percival brought word. She looked every inch like a queen.

“My lady,” Arthur said. He stepped to her, and her arms around him were still comforting. Arthur drew back, studying her face. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” Gwen said. She looked worried. “Where were you, Arthur?”

Arthur hesitated. “We have many things to discuss, Guinevere.”

She shot him a searching look, but took him by the hand and led him back to Gaius’s chambers, where the physician checked his eyes and his bruises and berated him for not being more careful. Merlin stood in the doorway, watching, and Arthur’s eyes kept darting to him, until he left to go prepare Arthur’s rooms for the night.

“He’s been very worried,” Gwen said quietly, as the door shut behind Merlin.

“I can imagine,” Arthur said. He glanced at Gaius, but the physician was already leaving, saying something about some scratches Elyan had gotten from a poison oak. “He was going to enter the world of the dead for me, if I didn’t return soon.”

“He would,” Gwen’s smile was soft. She reached up to touch his hair, and Arthur tipped his face away. She shot him that same careful, searching look.

“Are you happy, Gwen?” Arthur asked.

“What?” Whatever she had been expecting, that wasn’t it.

“Could you be happier, do you think?” Arthur asked.

“Gaius told me about Uther’s shade,” Gwen said. Her eyes held a silent reproach that Arthur hadn’t done so himself. “Merlin wouldn’t when I asked him, but I caught Gaius alone and ordered him as his queen. Arthur, did your father say something to you?”

“No,” Arthur said. He corrected himself. “Well yes. Nothing that was worth listening to, I promise you.”

“Then what?” Gwen asked.

“When I tried to send him away, I ended up in a magical realm, far from here,” Arthur said. He looked away. “Many things were different there. It was…illuminating, in certain ways.” Gwen was silent beside him, and Arthur thought that when he did go about the writs to lift the ban on magic, there was no doubt that she would be with him. “Things that we can discuss another time.”

“And what did that tell you about my happiness?” Gwen asked.

“That I might not be the key to it,” Arthur admitted.

She shook her head. “Arthur, don’t – ”

“Don’t you ever think that we might be doing things wrong?” Arthur asked. “Or at least, that there are wrongs we’ve yet to right? That we might be better than we are now?”

“Arthur, what are you trying to say?” Gwen asked carefully.

“Gwen, I love you,” Arthur said softly. “But – I don’t know if I love you in the way I ought to.”

Gwen flinched, then turned away from him, to stare out the small dusty window above Gaius’s teetering books. Arthur waited as she pressed a hand to her stomach, as if to quell some rising pain.

“I have sometimes thought that very little changed between being your friend and your wife,” Gwen said, finally. She sat down on Gaius’s bench with her elbows on her knees, and let out a deep breath. “And I cannot say that the way you look at Merlin has gone unnoticed.”

Arthur paused, thrown. “I didn’t say anything about Merlin.”

“Arthur, you didn’t _have_ to.” Gwen shook her head. “I’m not blind, you know.”

“Why did you never say anything?” Arthur asked. He sat down next to her, wishing he knew if he was permitted to take her hand.

“I thought you must have acknowledged it within yourself, and made your choices,” Gwen said quietly, not looking at him. “Or perhaps I thought that you did not know and never would, or that I was reading too deeply into the way you behave around him.”

“Guinevere…” Arthur said helplessly.

“Have _you_ been happy?” Gwen asked. She finally raised her head to look at him. “Arthur, answer me honestly.”

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted.

“If you can’t answer, then the answer is probably no,” Gwen lifted a hand to her hair. “Have you always thought of him, whenever we were together?”

“Do you ever think about Lancelot?” Arthur asked. Gwen’s cheeks flushed. “Ah.”

“I can’t think of him. I put him from my mind every time he comes to me, or else I could never get through my days,” Gwen said softly. “Neither you or I has ever been foolish enough to dwell on fantasy, Arthur.”

“Perhaps we would be happier if we were less practical,” Arthur said.

Gwen laughed slightly. “I said you weren’t a fool, Arthur, not that you were at all practical.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do you remember when we brought the round table to Camelot, all those years ago?” Gwen asked. “You insisted that we not dismantle it, so the stone masons had to tear down half of the castle of the ancient kings, and it took three days to transport the thing here by wagon on those awful forest roads. You just said that it was _important_.” She shook her head. “I remember – Lancelot was the one who oversaw it. He told me when he came back that it was the most important and ridiculous quest he’d ever undertaken.”

They were silent a moment, Lancelot’s ghostly presence between them.

“I miss him too,” Arthur admitted softly. Gwen rested her head on his shoulder. “Gwen, I’m _sorry_.”

“You’re not the one who killed him,” Gwen said. They sat there on Gaius’s bench together, as the evening light dwindled.

“I would ask that you stay my queen,” Arthur said, finally. “Camelot needs you.”

“Good,” Gwen said.

“And I would not like to lose you as my friend.” Arthur felt her rise from the bench. He looked up at her, vulnerable. “I don’t know what I would do without you, quite honestly.”

Gwen reached out and smoothed his hair from his forehead. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his brow. When she drew away she was smiling, if not without sadness. “I love you, Arthur. I think perhaps we will be good at loving each other as friends.”

“What will you do now?” Arthur asked.

“I don’t know,” Gwen said. She shrugged, gathering her robe back around her. “Perhaps take dinner with Sir Leon tonight, we often dine together when you go out hunting and I have to attend to the castle business alone. Rule with you in council tomorrow.”

“I don’t even know what we’re meant to be discussing in council,” Arthur admitted.

She laughed. “It’s those trade ambassadors whose names you can never keep straight, I’ll send one of the pages with notes beforehand.” Gwen paused. “And what will _you_ do tonight, Arthur?”

“Try to keep a promise,” Arthur said.

\--

Merlin was in Arthur’s chambers, still making the bed. Arthur noticed that there were still maps flung around his tables, and at least one piece of decaying fruit from days ago that Merlin had never cleaned up off the floor. Arthur delicately nudged it with the tip of his boot, and from across the room, Merlin rolled his eyes at him.

“It’s quite basic hygiene, Merlin,” Arthur informed him.

“Yeah, maybe you should pick it up yourself then,” Merlin shot back. Arthur felt a smile tug at his lips. _The worst manservant in the world_. “Do you need anything before bed?”

“I need to speak with you,” Arthur said. He tried to sound kingly. Merlin just looked surprised, as Arthur beckoned him away from his chores. “About where I was.”

“Yeah?” Merlin asked.

“I was in a different world,” Arthur said. Merlin made a startled noise. “Not – not the world of the dead, a world where the events of my life were different. My mother was alive. My father too.”

“Gods,” Merlin murmured. He took a half-step towards Arthur, as if to lay a comforting hand on him. “I can’t imagine it – are you okay?”

“You were there too,” Arthur said.

He slid his seal ring off his finger, and put it deliberately on the table.

Merlin’s gaze flickered from the ring to Arthur, clearly confused.

“It was a world where no one had ever banned magic,” Arthur said. Merlin’s eyes widened slightly. Something afraid flickered across his face for an instant, and then Merlin set his jaw, and the emotion faded into the hard lines of his face. Arthur wondered how many times Merlin had needed to master himself like that. He let out a long breath. “Ask me who you were there, Merlin.”

“A servant, same as ever?” Merlin asked. His laugh was only a bit nervous, and died as Arthur gazed at him. The fear was creeping back into his eyes.

“Ack-waken,” Arthur said to the ring. He shook his head. “Ak – wak – en.” He picked the ring up, and held it out to Merlin. “I can’t do it, see. I just don’t know the language well enough.”

“What language?” Merlin asked.

“Dragon language,” Arthur said. Merlin swallowed. “A tongue which, I believe, you know.”

“Arthur…” Merlin tried, his voice impossibly small.

“Please don’t lie to me again,” Arthur said flatly. Merlin flinched and Arthur pushed a hand through his hair. “No, I mean – I’m sorry.” Merlin made an incredulous noise, and Arthur took another deep breath. “I am trying to give you an opportunity to tell me the truth.” _Please._

That made another spasm of pain cross Merlin’s face, as if Arthur had dealt him a physical blow. He reached down for the ring. His long fingers played over the edge, nervously, then he whispered the word. “ _Áwæcne._ ”

The dragon unfurled from the ring again, with a wide yawn that showcased its dozens of tiny teeth. It stretched its wings lazily, as superbly alive as it had been the first time.

“It’s bigger than it was at first,” Arthur said. He frowned down at the dragon. It was about the size of a mouse now, big enough that it could probably curl all the way around his wrist. It let out a shrill shriek and tried to climb onto the candlestick holder, only to slide down the smooth brass.

“Are you sure you’re not just imagining things?” Merlin asked. He reached out to gently draw a finger over the beast’s cheek. It nuzzled at him affectionately.

“Maybe,” Arthur said, even though something warm and gentle was expanding through his chest. He took a step closer to Merlin. “Merlin, ask me who you were there.”

“A sorcerer,” Merlin said quietly. He couldn’t meet Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur reached out, and tipped Merlin’s chin up. Merlin’s eyes were wide as they met his. “Yes. Among other things.”

Merlin stepped back, away from him. “Arthur – ”

“I don’t care about the magic,” Arthur said. He shook his head. “No, I mean – I do care. I’m going to repeal the laws, I don’t give a damn what my father would think about it.” Merlin made a desperate noise, like an animal, and Arthur’s heart ached. “I am only sorry that I didn’t do so before. I should have.”

Merlin’s eyes were wet as they finally met his. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Arthur reached for his hand. Merlin’s pulse beat rapidly under his fingers. “We were together, in the other world.” Arthur fought to keep his voice from shaking. “In every way possible. We loved one another."

Merlin seemed unable to meet his eyes. He was pulling away again. “Arthur…”

“Do you love me?” Arthur asked, his voice almost breaking.

“You must know the answer to that,” Merlin whispered. Arthur’s heart felt as though it might burn through his chest as Merlin’s eyes finally met his. _Please, say it to me_. “Arthur, I’ve loved you for _years_.”

That was enough for Arthur, and he pulled Merlin close, sealing their lips together.

His Merlin was less confident, and his hands were rougher as they gripped Arthur’s wrists, more desperate when he pulled Arthur close to him. Arthur jostled him against the table, until Merlin’s thighs were pressed against the rough wood and he was half sitting on it, weight awkwardly balanced as his hands fumbled over Arthur’s armor. They came to rest at Arthur’s neck, fingers just touching his hairline.

The dragon let out an indignant shriek, and they broke apart. Merlin glanced sheepishly at the candlestick they’d knocked over. It was precariously close to the maps the knights have must left scattered over the table, and the flame flickered dangerously by the parchment.

Merlin glanced at it, then at Arthur, and his eyes turned gold again. A puff of wind stirred over the table, putting out the candle.

It was as breathtaking as it had been the first time. Arthur had to kiss him again. Merlin’s hands shook as his fingers traced along Arthur’s jaw, knuckles brushing the stubble that had grown since that morning, the pads of his thumbs tracing the line of Arthur’s throat.

 _We can have this_ , Arthur thought. The idea was dizzying.

“Wait, stop,” Merlin said suddenly, his voice utterly wretched. His hands moved, pushing at Arthur’s chest. “ _Gwen_.”

“I spoke to her,” Arthur said quickly. “Merlin, gods, of course I spoke to her. She knows. I think she had known for some time.”

“Oh,” Merlin’s face collapsed into relief. Then – “She’ll still be queen?”

“There’s no one in Camelot who could do the job better,” Arthur said. He bumped his forehead against Merlin’s. “Besides, you’d never pull off half of those dresses.”

“Oh, that was quick,” Merlin grumbled half-heartedly. He toyed possessively with the rings of Arthur’s chainmail. “I’d do well in red, I’ll have you know.”

“I know,” Arthur said, his voice low. His hand settled over Merlin’s. “She’ll be queen. There are other ways – I don’t mean to hide you. I want you at my side.” Merlin kissed his neck, and Arthur shivered. “And there is something else I need to do.”

“Oh?” Merlin asked.

“I want to send a message to Morgana,” Arthur said. Merlin jerked away from him, eyes wide. Arthur took a deep breath. “I want her to know that if she wants to, she can come home.”

“She won’t,” Merlin said sharply. Arthur remembered how the other Merlin had looked at him, the danger in his eyes. “Arthur, she’s dangerous. Let her alone.”

“I know that she is twisted and half-mad, and not who she was,” Arthur said quietly. He met Merlin’s eyes. “But there is nothing in her that is inherently evil. I want to give her the chance to change.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“You’re here,” Arthur said. Merlin’s mouth opened, but he had nothing to say. “Merlin, tell me that you’re not powerful enough to protect us.” Arthur shook his head. “All – all I thought of, as I rode back from the stones, were all the times that miracles seemed to change my life. Armies turning to dust, dangerous creatures that just vanished once I opened my eyes. That strange blue light, in the caves beyond the Forests of Balor.”

“You remember that?” Merlin asked.

“I was trying to stop you dying of poison,” Arthur said. “Of course I remember. It’s always been you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Merlin whispered. His hands were shaking.

“I’m not afraid of anything, with you at my side,” Arthur said simply. He captured Merlin’s hands with his own, and tangled their fingers together. “I may have learned something about destiny as well, while I was in the other world.”

“I could tell you about that,” Merlin said. He squeezed Arthur’s hand. “Have you ever heard of the golden age of Albion?”

“No,” Arthur said. “But I think I would like to.”

Merlin’s smile was brilliant, as he leaned forward and kissed Arthur again. Arthur pulled him close, and felt Merlin laugh into his mouth, and the noise of the small dragon skittering back away across the table. They could have this.

Perhaps, Arthur thought, they could have everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: The mildly dubious content is the usual for this type of premise - Merlin believes that Arthur is the Arthur of his world & kisses him, cuddles with him, etc. Arthur is quite drunk during the cuddling. While this happens, Arthur is married to Gwen. However, he and Gwen break up in a mutually respectful way prior to him actually getting together with Merlin. It seems almost silly to add this in year of our lord 2020, but just in case - there is only love and appreciation for Gwen in this fic.
> 
> hmu on tumblr @ lancelotofthelake!


End file.
